Authors: William David
C
HAPTER
30
After Martin Lever had left the Randolph Hotel, Stewart put in a call. “Sir, I think there may be a bit of a situation developing which while not directly involving me I feel obliged to let you know about.”
“Can it wait until the morning?” said Ridley. “Or do we need to discuss it now?
Good so it can wait? M
y office at 9
am
, see you then.”
The next morning Stewart met with Ridley and told him about his conversation with Lever. “Sir, I don't know the background to this, and Naismith is a good officer, if somewhat aggressive and opinionated. I think he is acting on orders from above and I was not sure that you were aware of what is going on.”
“Dawson, you mean?”
“Yes, you know how close he is to the Yanks and this smells of US clandestine activity.”
“OK, I will follow it up, thanks. Dawson is actually in the US at the moment so it will have to wait until Monday.”
CHAPTER 31
Back in Bristol, I went in to the office, Jason tagging along. It was Saturday but there was no news about Adrian and there was loads of work waiting to be done so I thought I might as well get on with it. Alec was also in so we had a chat over coffee and then I went and buried myself in the outstanding paperwork that June had left out on my desk. I reviewed
and tweaked the
PowerPoint she had
prepared for my student lecture
; quite an impressive presentation, she had done well. I must remember to compliment her on Monday.
A full in tray, and the results of the stress testing on ForceNet were coming in and the results so far looked good, in fact better than I had expected.
I called Lloyd and found that he also was at work. No news on Adrian, but there had been a sizeable response to the TV appeal. There was one witness report of an incident in Pill where a driver of a car matching the description of my MG had apparently been taken ill and another driver had moved him to his car presumably to take him to a doctor or hospital. There were no corresponding hospital admissions so this could be evidence that Adrian had been abducted not assisted as assumed by the witness. However there were no indications of where Adrian could be now and the only thing the witness could remember was that the car behind the MG had been red, possibly a Ford.
“That sounds like the car that intercepted Jason,” I said.
“Yes it does,” said Lloyd. “Unfortunately the traffic cameras
leading on to the motorway where your Jason had his altercation
were at the wrong angle to pick
up the registration of that car; however
digital enhancement of the image has come through and enabled
us to identify the driver as
Reginald Archer
,
the
other London based heavy
that you previously identified when you came in and went through mug shots.
We will pick him up if we can find him. The other heavy that Jason so adequately disabled was the
big
guy
, Jackie
Peterso
n, that
you
also
identified
from
mug shots
.”
“Yes it sounded like him, have you picked him up.”
“No, we have not found him yet, which is surprising as that arm would need treatment and we have an alert out at all local hospitals.”
“Thanks for the update any
way,” I said
,
and hung up.
I worke
d for the rest of the afternoon then
went out and found Jason and told him that I was going home and that I would be having an early night.
On Sunday I rose early. It was a bright and sunny day and having checked and found that there was no new info on email or voicemail decided I needed to get some fresh air and that a game of golf would probably take my mind off things.
I loaded clubs in to the car and set off to the club. Sunday is usually a very busy day but the Pro said he was sure he could squeeze me in with another group if I gave him some time. He was as good as his word and half an hour later I was on the first tee facing in to a stiff breeze coming up the fairway towards me. This would get rid of the cobwebs!
The Pro had matched me up with a single, a visitor to the area, who therefore did not know the course. That advantage did not help me however. I play off a respectable handicap of 8 but I was really rusty, I had not hit a golf ball for weeks. My playing partner visitor claimed a handicap of 10 and proceeded to thrash me. I bought him a drink in the bar afterwards and then set off home.
At home I decided to do some work in the garden. I am not a keen gardener with green fingers, but I enjoy organising gardens as part of the process of refurbishing a house, and this house I had refurbished, or had paid someone else to refurbish, right from scratch.
The house was an old 17th century barn which when I bought it a few years ago had been partly converted. It had an old well in the small front courtyard and the remains of cow byres to one side. However the house was on cesspit drainage when I bought it and those who have experience of
cesspit drainage
will know how unsatisfactory it can be, particularly after heavy rain. The whole upstairs of the barn had previously been converted to domestic accommodation, but the downstairs remained little more than garage space. So I had put in mains drainage, stairs down to the lower level of bedrooms, two modern bathrooms, and a modern kitchen. The resulting house was an upside
down
house in that to enter you climbed a set of outside steps to a porch over the front door and the living rooms were on the first floor. One then went down the internal stairs to the bedrooms. The old stone walls were more than two feet thick and helped maintain a steady temperature summer and winter. The lounge had a
high
vaulted roof, but
spaced down the room there were two of the
original horizontal
15 inch square wooden cross beams at
a height of
five foot ten inches which meant that someone like me at 6 foot plus
,
had to duck in the appropriate places when crossing the room. Quirky, but I loved it, it was quiet out in the countryside and the log fire in the lounge in winter was really welcoming.
Jason came out in to the garden. “You went off without me this morning?” he said.
“Yes, I felt like a game of golf and didn't think it was necessary to get you up.”
“Is there anything I can do?”
“You don't have to but if you have nothing better to do you can give me a hand. I plan to spend the afternoon working on the old cow byres. I use them as storage sheds for the lawn mower and other tools, but the old stone walls are starting to crumble and need repair.
Coming back in to the house, as it got dark, I was exhausted and had a shower.
Returning to the lounge I shouted to Jason who was in the shower, “Jason do you want a beer?”
“Please.”
“I am going to be boring and do my standard pasta for dinner. Will that be Ok for you?”
“Sure, although you don't have to cater for me.”
“That’s OK, but I am pretty wacked so I will disappear to bed for an early night afterwards.”
“OK, let me contribute by washing up.”
“Suits me.”
Before I could get to bed however there was a
phone
call. The caller refused to identify himself but in an American drawl said. “I have been asked to give you a message. Watch the news on TV, this changes eve
rything
for you and your brother.” He then hung up.
I immediately grabbed the remote and switched on the TV to get the news and had to impatiently sit there waiting for it to come back on as it went through its countdown process to the hour.
The breaking news was a report that last night the Vice President of the United States, while attending a function at the White House had been struck down by a heart attack. He had been rushed to a specialist heart unit in Washington but was reported dead on arrival.
Wow! I thought. Where does that leave us all? The caller said it
changes everything.
What will happen now? The call in effect confirms that they have Adrian.
I called Lloyd and told him of the call and the news.
“Well, that tends to confirm the kidnap theory and even the possible security service involvement, doesn't it?”
“Yes, but what do we do now?”
“Be patient and wait, would be my advice,” said Lloyd.
“Difficult,” I said, “but in reality I cannot think of anything I can do anyway.”
Before going to bed I went on-line to get the news in more detail and was surprised to learn that there was a lot of speculation in the underground press that the vice president had killed himself. Suicide? Surely not; there was no official comment on this speculation
. If it was true, why?
C
HAPTER
32
The next morning, Ridley walked in to Dawson’s office and closed the door. “Good trip to the States Gerry?” he enquired.
“Not bad, got back in yesterday afternoon.”
“You've heard about the V
ice P
resident I assume?”
“Yes, poor bugger.”
“Well I think he might just have saved you,” his voice markedly hardening in tone.
Dawson looked up, “what do you mean?”
“I understand that you have been running an op
.
here with our American friends without telling me? Don't deny it, I know the details.”
“Nothing major,” Dawson responded.
“Nothing major! You don't call kidnap and a possible rendition major! Are you kidding?”
Dawson was silent.
“I told you the last time you went off the rails like this that there would be trouble if it happened again. You will be lucky if you don't find yourself in a cell, it depends how well disposed towards you I am feeling when you have had a chance of cleaning this up.”
“You will do exactly as I say or I will come down on you like a ton of bricks. Get Lever released unharmed. Make sure neither he nor his brother release that video footage. And disappear all of your operatives on this job so they cannot be the subject of embarrassing interviews or confessions. Do this now and report back to me personally every day until it is completed.” With that Ridley turned and walked out of the office.
CHAPTER 33
In the meantime I had been in the office Monday morning and was called by Lucy Pageant to say that she had been unable to get hold of Alec but that she had set up lunch with the Dalrymple CEO at the Blue Parrot for 12.30, would Alec and I mind making our own way.
“No problem,” I had said, “but Alec would like our Financial Director Bill Williams to come as well, I assume that is OK?”
“Fine,” she responded, “see you at 12.30.”
I asked June to find Alec and give him the message and to organise a taxi to get us to the Blue Parrot.
The Blue Parrott is one of the oldest pubs in Bristol, with a history going back as far as the 17th century. It has a pleasant restaurant, and the advantage that the seating is arranged in booths that permit private conversations.
When we got there, Lucy was waiting for us in the bar with two gentlemen. The first was tall with dark hair and I recognised him from the company publicity blurb as the CEO of Dalrymple, Mark Winter; the other was a much shorter pugnacious looking individual whom I did not recognise but turned out to be Dalrymple’s CFO. After the introductions were complete and drinks ordered, we were led through to our table.
Once settled and a few pleasantries exchanged Lucy started the ball rolling.
“I am glad you gentlemen have an opportunity to meet, I think you could have a lot in common. It is appreciated that this is just an exploratory meeting but it is my belief, and that of my colleague Ron
Armstrong
, that there are a lot of potential synergies between your two companies. Control Networks are strong in the UK, Europe, and parts of Asia and Africa while Dalrymple has a very strong presence in North and South America, but particularly with the Pentagon in the US. S
o you have complementary market strengths
and with similar product and technology assets, working together in some way could be beneficial for all shareholders.”
Bill Williams interrupted at this point. “Alec I think we need to remind everyone here that our stock goes public on Thursday of this week so we are not in a position to have any meaningful discussions which should be declared to the market. This session can only be a get to know you session and should I suggest be limited to that and an exchange of general information on where each company stands and is heading.”